With Ash Wednesday and therefore Lent less than a week away, it’s a better time than ever to do a change of pace, and explore some religious and spiritual material that we might not have otherwise found the opportunity to consider before. For example, we could do a survey of not-so-widely-known prayers and devotions. Better yet, because
Musical Masses
We start with what I remember Sister Rosarita from over thirty years ago telling us bug-eyed kids was the highest form of prayer – the Holy Mass. Now, if we’re all good Catholics here, we should be going to Mass every Sunday, and some of us probably even hear Mass daily. After fifteen-odd years of being a daily mass-goer myself (except for periods of time when I was living and working abroad and it just wasn’t possible—no thanks to the apathetic French and the atheistic Chinese), I’m still occasionally surprised that I’m not bored out of my wits with this devotion. But for those of you with shorter attention spans, here’s the solution – a sung Mass!
In reality, this is nothing new. The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass must have been sung even during the early Christian era. A “Missa Cantata” has probably been a standard feature of the liturgy during major feast days and solemnities, from the time that Christianity became the religion of the Establishment in the ancient Roman empire . Much later on, medieval, renaissance, and baroque composers from Italy to Germany to France to England took their stabs at the challenge of setting the Holy Mass to music, not only to demonstrate to their noble patrons, many of whom were high church officials, that they were exemplary Catholics, but also no doubt to show off their artistic talents.
Fast forward to the present. There have been a number of musical settings of the Mass composed in the past fifty or so years, but without the patronage of the established Church or of pious and wealthy individuals, such examples have obviously been scarce. The arrival of Vatican II reforms in the late 1960’s, allowing among other things the use of the vernacular for the Mass versus the previous Latin-only rule, probably decreased the need for Sung Masses, since anyway the devout wouldn’t need to be “entertained” as much as before, because they could actually understand what was going on, more or less.
In the Philippines
Ryan Cayabyab: Misa (1983)
On 24 December 1982 , Cayabyab completed a “Misa,” for mixed chorus, a capella (without instrumental accompaniment), for his graduation requirement in Composition from the University of the Philippines College of Music. This work subsequently received its first public performance on 4 March 1983 with the U.P. Concert Chorus under its then director, Professor Rey T. Paguio. These same artists subsequently recorded the work, and it was released in mid-1983 by Jem Recording Company on cassette (and perhaps on vinyl disc as well).
I’m not aware if this album was ever re-issued on CD, but I was lucky to save my old cassette copy, which I had easily converted not only to a safety CD copy but also to the MP3 format, from which we can examine some excerpts.
Unlike your usual songs for the Mass used in churches up and down the Philippine Islands, Cayabyab sticks to the standard Latin texts. Also, he conforms to the classical convention that the Sung Mass only has five parts: Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, and Agnus Dei. What makes this Misa different is that it could only have been written by a modern-day Filipino composer – in a manner of speaking, it possesses an undeniably contemporary sound that nonetheless conveys a prayerful tone and a deep spirituality.
The first of its parts, the Kyrie, is very striking. The soloists sing the first “Kyrie Eleison” (“Lord, have mercy”) section as an interwoven series of incantations, which individually sound like the Muslim call to prayer. The succeeding “Christe Eleison” (“Christ, have mercy”) section, sung by the full choir, is relatively more conventional but is still extremely powerful. The final “Kyrie Eleison” section is essentially a reprise of the first section, and therefore serves to “tie things up,” as it were. Overall, this opening of “Misa” very effectively conveys a plea for mercy, consistent with the original Latin (actually Greek) text.
(an interpretation of the Kyrie by the University of South Carolina Graduate Vocal Ensemble)
Then there is the Agnus Dei, the last of this Misa’s five parts. The choir almost whispers the opening “Lamb of God, who takes away the sins of the world,” and is answered by a clear-voiced full-throated soprano singing “Have mercy on us.” This exchange is repeated once, consistent with the standard text. The final “Lamb of God…” from the choir is of course followed by “Grant us peace” from the soprano. The entire sequence is repeated from the beginning, and ends with a very peaceful fade – again, quite consistent with the text.
(an interpretation of Sanctus and Agnus Dei by Schola Cantorum Carolina)
Since there aren’t rich pickings for musical settings of the Mass in modern-day Philippines, the perfect foil is to go back to the classical era – to the specific “classical” (as opposed to baroque or romantic) period, whose standard bearer is perhaps Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Raised in a devoutly Catholic milieu, and employed by Prince-Archbishops among others, Mozart had many opportunities to write musical Masses. Even his final work, the famous and controversial Requiem, is nothing but a musical setting of the Mass for the Dead.
However, today we instead turn to his contemporary, Franz Josef Haydn, who was not only older than Mozart, but also outlived him by nearly two decades. Like Mozart, Haydn was Austrian and operated in a staunchly Roman Catholic environment; he therefore had ample opportunities to compose Masses. Indeed he composed over a dozen of them, but for me, the best one is his first, composed when he was only about seventeen years old, shortly after he had left the choir school of Saint Stephen’s Cathedral, probably because his voice had just broken (which in centuries past came later than it does now).
Haydn: Missa Brevis in F Major (1749)
Haydn’s Missa Brevis, literally “brief mass” – is a real gem. The story is that in his old age, ill and bedridden, the composer came across the manuscript of this work that he had written over half a century earlier, and had since assumed to have been lost. According to a biographer, Haydn was much cheered by the recovery. “What specially pleases me in this little work,” said Haydn, “is the melody and a certain youthful fire.”
In fact, although the composer had completely forgotten its existence, this work, the Missa brevis a due soprani (“Short Mass for Two Sopranos”) had actually circulated quite widely, with copies to be found in many Austrian monasteries and even parish churches.
The recording that I have of the Missa Brevis has it with two Handel works, the Ode for the Birthday of Queen Anne and the Anthem for the Foundling Hospital),This very short composition is always coupled with other Haydn works, and even with those of other composers is one of my favourite pieces of music of all time, which is significant as I personally prefer baroque and instrumental music, and this work is neither. It helps that it is performed exceptionally well by the Choir of Christ Church Cathedral Oxford, an all-male collegiate choir (with grade-school-aged boy trebles singing the soprano parts) that is also one of the top choirs in England
Even the instrumentalists used in this recording are outstanding, as they’re from my favourite orchestra of all time, the Academy of Ancient Music
And the two sopranos, Judith Nelson and Emma Kirkby, are pioneers of the “early-music-movement” in England Manila
The work was scored for the two aforementioned sopranos (originally two boy trebles), a standard four-part choir (again, originally an all-male choir with boys taking the soprano part), and a small orchestra of two violins and bass. In the above mentioned recording, the orchestra consists of two groups of violins (five first violins and five second violins) and a bass section comprised of a small pipe organ, cello, and double bass.
The work was scored for the two aforementioned sopranos (originally two boy trebles), a standard four-part choir (again, originally an all-male choir with boys taking the soprano part), and a small orchestra of two violins and bass. In the above mentioned recording, the orchestra consists of two groups of violins (five first violins and five second violins) and a bass section comprised of a small pipe organ, cello, and double bass.
Since it is literally a short mass, the opening, Kyrie Eleison, does not waste any time and uses all these musical forces immediately. The choir and orchestra come in strongly on the very first beat, and the two sopranos sing variations on the theme. The second “Christe Eleison” section is melodically different but structurally similar with perhaps more use made of the sopranos, but then everything is tied up neatly in the final “Kyrie Eleison” section, which is just a reprise of the first, just like in Cayabyab’s Misa.
The next two parts, Gloria and Credo, are structurally similar, no doubt because they are longer – these prayers are familiarly the “Glory to God in the Highest” and the Apostle’s Creed (actually the Nicene Creed, which is an older form, preferred in the older Latin Mass). Both of these begin with the Deacon-Cantor (or the Priest-Celebrant, if he can sing well enough) intoning the first line, “Gloria in Excelsis Deo,” and “Credo in Unum Deum.” This is immediately followed by the full choir responding strongly with the succeeding lines. In both these parts, the two soprano soloists interject their own solo lines, for example beginning with the “Laudamus te….” in the Gloria, which allows them to show off their vocal abilities with very tuneful flourishes and twisting and turning melodies.
The other thing about the Gloria and Credo is that they both demonstrate the practice of “telescoping” – which was a technique used by composers like Haydn to shorten the performing duration of their pieces by running the sung texts simultaneously (by having different voices in the choir sing different texts at the same time) or into each other. This tactic of making lines overlap was obviously necessary if Haydn was to achieve a “brief mass” – in our recording, the whole Mass lasts just fourteen minutes. But because it seemed to give more importance to the music than to the words, these telescoping practices were much frowned upon by the church hierarchy and were even subsequently expressly forbidden for sacred music.
The Sanctus (Holy Holy Holy, Lord, God of Power and Might…), is probably the most serious-sounding of the work’s six parts, at least at the start. Then almost out of nowhere, there is a mad rush for the ending “Hosanna in Excelsis,” and the whole thing is over in less than a minute. This is followed by the Benedictus, is what we today think of as an integral part of “Sanctus” – “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord” – but in the classical Masses, they were sometimes set apart. Haydn conformed to this convention as well. Unusually, it opens with an extended instrumental introduction from the orchestra, and only the two sopranos sing the low slow flowing melodic lines, almost like the choir was being allowed to take a break. Then, before everyone manages to relax, the choir jumps back in and returns with “Hosanna in Excelsis” to end, just as in the previous “Sanctus” section.
The final part, Agnus Dei, is my favourite, like its counterpart in Cayabyab’s Misa. It starts out very serious and grave, befitting the text, “Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on us….” This is repeated once as customary, and for the third time the choir sings “Lamb of God…,” but instead of responding “Grant us peace” in the same way that they sang “Have mercy on us,” a total change of mood and pace ensues and what comes is a happy-snappy-flowing “Dona nobis pacem.” If this music sounds familiar, complete with the two sopranos’ melodious interjections, it is because Haydn simply lifted it from the first part, “Kyrie Eleison.” Thus this Missa Brevis begins and ends on literally the same happy musical notes.
This recording is actually thirty years old this year, but has probably never been bested. It helps that Haydn’s Missa Brevis is not so often performed or recorded, but even in absolute terms, I believe that this piece – both as a musical work and as a recorded performance – is exceptional.
At the end of the day, what makes for a proper sung Mass is not really the individual parts, but that all the parts are recognizably part of a musically coherent suite.
At the end of the day, what makes for a proper sung Mass is not really the individual parts, but that all the parts are recognizably part of a musically coherent suite.
(another recording of Haydn's Missa Brevis in F Major with Krisztina Laki and Julia Hamari as sopranos)
Finally, it’s probably too much to expect seventeen-year-olds of today to do a Haydn, but would any young Filipino composers out there be ready, willing, and able to create a complete Filipino “Missa Brevis” a la Haydn? Apart from having parts that form a coherent musical whole, we should avoid telescoping; instead of an orchestra, we may just employ a guitar or organ; we could also make the soprano soloists optional, and use English or Pilipino instead of Latin. To expand things a bit, we can even add in the Our Father / Ama Namin to the suite. If one part of the Mass (e.g., the Glory to God, or the Holy Holy Holy) has already been composed, the obvious task is to compose the other parts to match it and complete the Mass.
puyat1981 wrote on Feb 23, '07
well writen :)
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